insecurities are judged

how do we know where to begin,
and when to end things.
our own insecurities blanket us,
from within ourselves.
never having to leave ourselves for comfort.
some days i imagine this to be easier,
some days, in my dreams i imagine this to be easier.
over and over again
these tricks we play on ourselves.
in the end,
by ourselves...
shaken and barely breathing

negative space

if i survived the abuse,
i must survive the recovery.

the recovery
it's a daily thing,
a yearly thing
like holidays
like birthdays
year by year
the smells are always the same
the feelings are always the same
negative.
negative and empty

i wake up from a half sleep
wake up and decide,
let me live and breathe another day
let me be a mother,
a wife, a sister and a daugther,
maybe even a friend,
i don't do this very well...
a dreamer.
a dreamer of the best dreams ever imagined.

the best me that i can
with all my being

lost

some nights i can still hardly sleep

last night was one of those nights

anxious beyond control

my palms sweaty,

my hands freezing cold

what does an anxiety attack feel like?

does it feel like i do now?

i try over and over to shut my eyes and think....

of nothing...

nothingness is never enough

before i can open my eyes,

thoughts invade like a plague...

i cant open them quick enough..

the thoughts swarm in.

like ants to a morsel of ethan's breakfast left behind.

i shake my head...

like i'm going to knock them out or something ridiculous

with no use..

i try to think of other things,

my kids, my husband

but i still see it there..

lurking..

every damn time i try and close my eyes.

this is how i live,

when will i be able breathe..

freely

all to myself, just for myself.

for now i'll just be waiting

and having insomnia

i hide from the truth that i am..

i must be more honest with myself..

i think i need a therapist

daphne

my name is daphne
i have many grey hair
i speak in a tone of much affection,
but scarcely show fear of the supernatural.
i sense tension with a bit of character,
as you whisper softly into my left ear
i can feel the moisture in your breath,
and see the hate in your eyes.
i speak as though i have experienced many things,
you speak like an innocent child
uncertain of life

my "things to do" list grows longer and longer
as my health plummets to the pit of
your stomach
you seemed puzzled with my infatuation
with god,
and my knowledge of lucifer
but it's just that you're so easily amused with people
i fear for both our lives,
now that no path is better
one a burning hell,
and the other
a slightly more modified version
with air-conditioning

my thoughts and ramblings

well. i found some of my old writing from high school.
pretty dark, compared to my writings today.
to me this was the most difficult time.
poor mr. dorna had to read all my misery.
he had to have known.
maybe that's why it genuinely seemed like he cared about me.
high school was difficult
i was alone. i felt alone.
but life is difficult.
i remember being very sad, very depressed.
not understanding anything that had happened,
the disgust and feelings of guilt left me numb with pain.
and the anger that lay inside me,
was there for anyone to see.

i know maybe you think i'm sad or depressed right now
because of my writings, but this is just my release.
like i said, this is my outlet.
i let all my bad days and nights live here.

beyond me

when you feel like i do,
heart and soul
shattered,
weak...limp
uneasiness trembles throughout me,
beyond me
then you will know
what it feels like to be me.

people judge me
i know they do
behind their eyes
i can see it,
feel it

i swallow,
dry
and so uncomfortably

eyes and tongues
your words spoken,
come back to me

deceit

do you know what it feels like?

make your lies.
calm your heart and soul with me

release me

i have always given much credit of my early survival to music.
without it
i don't know where or what exactly my mental state would be.

i believe strongly in music,
its power, its charm
its whispering thoughts
surrounding me,
embracing me,
unconditionally
feeling my thoughts, my pasts,
my everything
with me

never judging

i lived in the music,
we escaped together
many times i would lay in my bed
listening...
breathing...
choking on tears of sadness.
tears of a girl
with a lost sense of being.

i believe music heals the soul
its power, unheard of
with ever lyric full of life,
every lyric full of pain

i was released.

-

most of the time
i felt alone.

like a tragedy.
helpless
and useless.

as a girl i always wondered
how come no one ever seemed to noticed
or ever seemed to care

i was left alone,
over and over again.

everything was so obvious to me.

withdrawn.
lonely.
abused.
unloved.


i always knew it wasn't my fault but,
i still felt guilty


sometimes
looking back now,
i wonder how i could still believe in myself.
how did i have any hopes and dreams left?
i was such a small kid.
and for years and years,
there was always a way i found a bright side.
how could i even smile?
if it hurt to breathe.



and now it leads me to this:
i wanted to verbalize and write down all of what i have felt.
to become a better more understood version of myself
to be able to feel more confident.
and most importantly,
to overcome

everyday can be a struggle.
asphyxiated and
numb.

and i need to always remember,
that there is more to life than this

...venom...

this has everything
and at the same time nothing to do with my past experiences.

sometimes.

sometimes,
i get caught up
in life.
sometimes i react in all the right ways.
sometimes i do just the opposite,
and completely destroy things.
making things worse.

have you ever taken a situation completely out of context.
blamed all your frustration and anger on something or someone.

well. that's what happened.

i wish i could clean the slate. but i feel like poison.
unhealthy.
my mind and my body are weak.

projection

we all make mistakes.
but do we recognize them?
do they weigh in your stomach?
do they break your heart?

we put ourselves in these situations,
But do not know how to react.

clouded judgments and denial.

Denial...maybe i need help. maybe i need a therapist. maybe.
i don't know.

i am so much weaker than people perceive me to be.
weaken, mislead and confused.
sometimes i imagine myself..more perfect.
then you know..something happens...and it shows me,
i'm still just that stupid scared girl in
grade school...
high school..
day after day
year after year.

the infliction of pain and heartache,
heartbreak.
the bond of trust and friendship over in a second.

words are strong and powerful things.
masochistic by nature.
theses things i say,
these things i do.
i don't understand.
i will never understand.

daily motion

sometimes, some days are not that easy
it's like everything is disconnected.
raw.
the feelings that run within me,
break me.
and i still end up feeling lost.
after all this time.

her

i'm not like you. 

i can't talk, i can't say that it happened

i can't admit it.

i don't want to think about it,

or relive it.

and i totally understand her.

i've been there,

and i didn't like it either.

i understand.

admitting that it happened.

admitting that you are a victim, is beyond hard...

and in my eyes,

one of the hardest things to do.

it was for me.

i used to have guilt.

i used to believe, i was at fault, 

dirty ...anything

just because i didn't understand how anyone normal could ever do that.

how anyone normal?

what i understood later,

was that there is no damn way those people are normal.

they are beyond sick.

they are demented.

and really, 

they never regret it,

they don't even pause and think about all the damage they've done.

basically, they see nothing wrong.

and that's how they go about life.

from one victim to another.

bastard.

today. she told me.

he molested her too.

and it hurt to hear,

to know.

she is 4 years older than me, 35.

and she could hardly say it.

the words barely slipped her lips. 

and i understood.

everything.

the sadness, the guilt.

the hurt.

the years of silence.

i just let her cry.

and i talked. 

we are not alone

and then she asked, umm.. what is this you sent me?
...and i thought to myself, did i make a mistake,
nervous and kinda scared..i finally replied...its a blog.....
......followed by yet another long drawn out agonizing pause...
that i write....
its a blog that i write,
  its a blog that i write,
       its a blog that i write...
My voice repeated and repeated in my mind.
was it a mistake, i was scared,
but what came after was even greater than i could have expected.

i guess i didn't realize how hard it would be to show people this blog.
the fact is so obvious to me now.
people i care about, people that don't know.
everyone. basically.
sharing this blog is just as hard as writing this blog.

i checked my email, like i usually do.
she had written me an email response, thanking me for sharing my blog with her.
reading her email made me cry, i admit.
she said i was doing something infinitely important...that my idea for this blog was beyond brilliant.
i cant say that, that comment doesn't make me feel awesome.
i want this blog, to grow, to thrive in awesomeness.
but most of all i want it to help me,
and maybe some others along the way.

our strengths together.
our weakness and insecurities unite.
we share and are burdened with the same/but different experiences.
we are not alone.
by far, we are not alone.

i don't blame her

today, the subject came up.

my mom decided to talk/excuse herself from any blame about my past.

about my molestation. she's only known for about six months now...i am now 31.

this is something that happened years and years ago.

i'm not saying i don't still deal with it, sometimes daily or weekly.

i'll always be having to deal with it, i think. 

what i am saying is that, i'm OK.

I have always had my faith in God,

and music.

i strongly believe that my faith in God has been so strong, 

it has saved me from my own depressions, my own self. 

music put my anxieties at rest and together these things have made me whole.

i am who i am because of life, because of  my past.

she said something today,

that made me feel like she was putting blame on me for not telling her sooner.

how do you tell your mother...i did tell you. 

remember, on this and this occasion.

remember when i was 6....and then again around 11?

i remember because as a very confused, sad, lonely kid, 

i told her in ways that she might understand.

she never did put it all together.

maybe its her ignorance,

maybe i don't know.

all i know, is i don't inquire.

i don't want to think she knew or even had an inkling.

my mother is a very ignorant uneducated person.

i'm not saying she's dumb.

i'm just saying i guess, maybe she was naive.

how do i tell her i did tell her, twice..maybe three times.

how do i do that without her feeling like i'm blaming her?

that would never be my intention, 

and i forgive her for her ignorance of not understanding.

i pray that i will be able to see and understand when someone is reaching out to me.
i pray. i pray. i pray

there's always up

there's always up. that's all we can do sometimes. it's all we can breathe, feel and taste.
at least that's my experience.
its how i choose to live my life.
.open ended.
i took this picture on my honeymoon.
because that's the way i try and view my life. each and every time i become overwhelmed.

.......

through music, through art, through friendship.. that's how I endured the hardship that was my highschool career. ackwardness and feelings of inadequacy ...it was a everyday thing. it walked me to and from school, making sure I was not left alone.. to myself, to my mind.
undeniable, I sometimes still feel those feelings.. they over take me..lingering..behind my eyes, behind my heart, behind my soul.

this is my outlet.

being a victim of molestation is something that continues haunting me to this day.

i believe it's something that i will never really recover from completely.
by this, i do not mean i am not normal. i can and do live a normal life.
it's just something that i have realized over time... this is part of me.
whether i like it or not, its there. it happened, and i was affected.

by saying that, what i mean is, it's something that stays with you. forever.

ever changing innocence...sometimes catching a glimpse of saturday morning cartoons makes me rememeber the forgotten.... makes me relive it, for a disgusting instance. 

it's been a while.

 this idea of mine has been embedded in my brain for quite a long while now, and in my heart for even longer. i am very unsure of what is going to go on here, but i do have a general idea of what i would like this blog to be and to become.